The Apple of My Eye
by MusicalCatharsis
Summary: Slight AU where Penelope is a grade school teacher and Luke's son is in her class.
1. Prologue

Penelope Grace Garcia lived a very simple life, according to the other people in her life. Her Teacher's Assistant, or TA, as he liked to be called both inside of the building and out, had told her repeatedly that she should loosen up on the very rare occasions that she would join the younger man outside of work. There was a constant undercurrent of talk about her personal life, she realized one day when she entered the break room and all of those around her went silent. She didn't question it, all of her life things like this had been happening to her, and she took the silence in stride. Instead, walking over to an empty table and pulling her lunch from the brightly colored bag she carried it in.

For as long as she could remember, Penelope had lived in the same small apartment, which was decorated much like her classroom in bright colors and odd figurines. She had, after spending thousands of dollars on education for technical studies decided that teaching was her true passion, and changed her major as well as transferring to a school on the East Coast. Deciding that, while she would always be a Cali girl at heart, she craved a change in the seasons. It was a major life change, she realized, but in the past ten years, she didn't regret a single thing about it.

It was a Wednesday morning when her Principal and close personal friend Emily Prentiss called her into the office, asking her to shut the door behind her without looking up from her paperwork.

"Good Morning, PG, how are you today?" Emily asks, her hand still working on her paperwork. Penelope knew that this was her mechanism, the easiest way that the introvert could continue to have hard conversations without making herself uncomfortable.

"I'm having a great day, I have a fun lesson planned for the kids this afternoon, and Michael is going to read them a book after nap time," Penelope replies while clapping her hands together in excitement.

"I'm giving you a new student," the other woman replies, putting her pen down and looking up at her friend with a soft smile. Penelope tilts her head to the side, unsure as to why a new student would be the cause of a private meeting. "His name is Anthony Alvez, son of Luke Alvez, they uh, just moved to town." Penelope continues looking at her boss, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Okay, I'll create a desk and a name tag for him, when does he start?" Penelope asks before turning in her seat to look at the door behind her. Mrs. Cunningham had her head sticking through the door, signaling that someone else had arrived.

"Right now actually, send them in Bea," Emily instructs the woman, coming around to the front of her desk and leaning up against the dark wood with a warm smile. The thought strikes Penelope as weird, seeing her normally introverted friend open up in this manner.

"Em," a tall man says, his voice gravelly and deep. Penelope watches as he embraces her boss in a warm hug, his eyes shifting over to her quickly. If she had allowed herself to live outside of the lines, just once, she would have thought to herself that this man was the most beautiful human being she had ever had the pleasure to set her eyes upon. "Thanks for doing this on such short notice,"

"Nonsense, you're family, where's my little man?" Emily replies, brushing off the man's thanks as she looks behind him. Penelope takes this time to turn further in her chair, her eyes falling on a small boy who looked to be around six years old. His eyes were wide and a beautiful shade of brown, his hair falling into his face but still neatly trimmed around the edges. Tilting her head to the side once more, Penelope smiles at the young boy, beckoning him further into the room.

"Hi Anthony, I'm Miss. Garcia," Penelope introduces herself while approaching the small child, her knees popping when she kneels down to be at eye level with him.

"Hi, M...Miss. Garcia," Anthony replies his eyes traveling up to his father who nods his head in approval.

"I'm Luke," the older Alvez man says, extending his hand in order to help Penelope into a standing position. She takes his head with a wide smile, nodding her head as he continued speaking, not hearing what he was saying instead, getting lost in the depth of his brown eyes, his strong jawline, the curve of his mouth as he started moving.

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Alvez," Penelope says, pulling her tingling hand from his grasp with a quick smile. "I'm going to walk Anthony to class and get started if that's okay with you?" She looks to Emily who nods, and Penelope, doing what she does with every other child holds out her hand and proceeds to guide him out of the room. "What are some of your favorite things?"

"Superheroes!" Anthony exclaims, his voice getting smaller as he and Penelope walk further down the hall.

"I'm not sure this is going to work, Luke," Emily says turning to the man with a sad smile.

"It has to, Em" the man replies, sinking into the nearest chair and letting his shoulders sag, the life draining out of him. "It just has to."


	2. Chapter 1

_Penelope can feel the soaked strands of his hair running through her fingers as they laugh wildly, pressing their lips together as the warm rain continues to fall. Her hands slide under his soaked shirt, dragging her nails along the plane of his back as he wraps his arms around her waist, lifting her and pinning her to the side of a black truck. She hears another round of laughter fall from her lips, the widest grin she had ever seen spreading across her face. Penelope lets out a shriek of laughter as he hikes her further up his body, wrapping her legs around his waist. Her hair, which was perfectly curled for their date fell limp around them now, but she finds that she doesn't care as she moves her hands to wrap around his neck. There's a carefree abandon radiating from them as they continue kissing in the rainstorm, a discarded picnic in the background. The man pulls back, smiling softly at her, and whispers that he loves her. Penelope keeps her eyes closed, whispering the sentiment back. This is the first time, in a long time, that she's felt free._

* * *

Penelope awakens to a blaring alarm clock. She rolls over and presses the snooze button, burrowing deeper into the covers and begging herself for just five more minutes of sleep. That's all she needed in order to be a functioning member of society. Fluttering her eyes closed, Penelope steadies her breathing, letting herself slip back into her dream with the mystery man who had kissed her so sinfully. Just as the scene was materializing around her, she is yanked from the rainstorm and back to her bed with a loud groan, her nine minutes completely up this time.

Monday mornings were never a favorite for anyone, but they were especially terrible for a Kindergarten teacher. The knowledge that she would have to wrangle children for the remainder of the day caused her to immediately start counting down the hours until she could return home to her apartment. Her commute was always a nightmare, living on the other side of the district from her school had always been a peculiar choice of hers, but the moment she had seen her small apartment building she had fallen in love with the intricate designs in the stonework.

Her coffee was too hot when she took the first sip, burning the inside of her mouth as she quickly curled her lashes and applied her favorite mascara with her right hand. Her curling iron never heated, causing Penelope to waste twenty minutes standing in her bathroom mirror, trying to figure out why her hair wasn't curling. It was shaping up to be a terrible day, the point is further proven when she exited her apartment and approached her car to see that not one but two of her tires had gone flat throughout the night. Rolling her eyes, Penelope huffs out an aggravated breath, her thumb twirling the simple white gold band on her left hand, as she dials her boss' number, hoping that the woman wasn't already at the school.

"Em, I need a ride," she explains when the other woman picks up the phone. "I've got two flat tires." She lets out a relieved sigh when her boss informs her that she is around the corner, and will be there in a few moments. It was always a good thing that she chose to live close to her friend, their bond being something that had been forged since the other woman's first day as Principal. Penelope slides into the car, piling her laptop case, purse, and teaching bag into the space on the floor between her legs with dejected look out of the window.

"Are you okay, Penelope?" The woman turns her signal on, looking over her shoulder and pulling away from the curb.

"It's been a morning," Penelope says, leaning her head back against the rest and closing her eyes, wishing for nothing more than to be curled back under her duvet with the television blaring a mindless daytime program through the speakers. "I burnt my mouth, my hair wouldn't curl, and then I walked outside to that disaster. My dream last night was so vivid I could have sworn it was real, and I still haven't found out where the lilies are coming from." She exhales, blowing her bangs off of her forehead in her frustration.

"You'll figure out the lilies," Emily says as she guides the car through the intersection closest to the school, her eyes scanning through the parking lot to make sure her spot is available.

"And this ring, I have no clue where it came from Emily," Penelope exclaims holding up her hand and staring at the piece of jewelry.

"You bought it at the craft fair last year, Penelope, are you sure you're feeling okay?" Emily answers quickly, pulling the car into the parking space and turning to look at her friend with a concerned smile. Penelope looks up and nods, a quick reassurance on the tip of her tongue as she gathers her belongings.

"I'm fine, I better get to my room before the kids arrive." Penelope exits the car, stopping to give her friend a quick thank you, before ducking her head and weaving through the throngs of children approaching the building. She doesn't look up until she's in her classroom, staring at a single lily sitting in the same green vase of water from yesterday, making the total number of flowers she had been gifted now, twelve. The same note was attached, in the same handwriting, from what she could only presume was the same pen. _For you, Penelope the Sweet._

The tag didn't stir from her feelings of unease, in fact, the words seemed to calm her frazzled nerves from the imperfect morning she had had up until this point.

* * *

Monday's were tedious. They were drawn out, each second passing by like nails on a chalkboard, each sound grating on her every nerve, and it wasn't until she was in the middle of a very enthralling rendition of _One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish,_ did she realize where the flowers had come from. His dark eyes bouncing back and forth between her face and the vase on her desk, and his small hands wringing together as he chewed at his lip. She knew, from the past three weeks that the boy was intelligent, and could read along with her, but he remained silent as the other children tried to follow along with their copies of the book.

Penelope quickly did the math, figuring out that Anthony Alvez had been in her class for thirteen days, the flowers showing up on her desk immediately the day after. As she finished reading the book she closed the tome and placed it on her desk, announcing that it was time for recess to a round of cheers from the small children.

"Anthony, can you come here for a moment?" Penelope asks as the children follow Michael out of the room. The small boy looks up from the friend he had made over the few days he had been in her class. She reached out to pull the small vase that had been placed on her desk again that morning. "Care to explain these to me?" She watches as he blushes, reaching up to scratch at his ear with a large smile. His mouth begins to waver, his eyes blinking rapidly.

"Am I in trouble?" He squeaks out, bringing his hands to settle into his lap.

"No, Anthony, you're not in trouble, I just want to know why you've been leaving them for me," Penelope asks, smiling warmly at the boy.

"They're from my dad," Anthony whispers, looking up at his teacher with wide eyes. "Well, not really he told me he thinks you're pretty so I've been taking these from the garden each day, the one outside the front door."

"So you're giving them to me and saying that they're from your father?" Penelope asks, standing and walking around her desk. She leans against the desk, her fingers drumming against the underside of the wood. Anthony nods, looking back down at his hands.

"He used to get my mom flowers every day, but then she had her accident..." he admits, reaching up to rub at his eyes.

"Okay, so how about we do this," she begins, reaching out to rest her right hand on his shoulder. Her heart breaking for the boy, knowing the pain that losing your mother could cause. As much as she wants to reach out and hug her student she doesn't instead, looking him in the eye. "You don't bring any more flowers, and I'll just tell your dad that it was all a misunderstanding when he comes to see me tonight?"

Penelope lets out a relieved breath when the dismissal bell rings, and the woman begins lining the children up in order to escort them to the front doors, relinquishing their care back to their guardians for the remainder of the day. Anthony files into the back of the line, looking up at her with his big brown eyes, and she finds herself smiling warmly at him.

"It's okay, Anthony," she tells him softly, instinctively reaching out to fix the twisted strap of his backpack.

"You can call me Tony," he tells the woman, smiling brightly up at her before racing out of the room with the rest of the class. Penelope chuckles as she follows the rest of the students out of the room, glancing around her class to make sure that nobody was left behind, and enters the chaotic halls of laughing children.

* * *

The sun never fully emerged from the clouds, and even though there wasn't direct light, she finds herself using her hand to shield her eyes from the bright light. She spends her time waving to each adult as they approach to pick up their children, wishing them a good night until it's just her and Anthony left. She notices a vehicle pulling into the grounds, the sight of it causing a familiar warmth to flood through her as it parks at the curb.

"Miss. Ah, Garcia, I'm so sorry that I'm late, how was he today?" Luke asks as he approaches his son and the blonde woman, she smiles up at him as Anthony walks over to slip his hand into his father's. Penelope remembers the way she felt thirteen days ago, the tingling returning to her hand as she finds herself lost in the waves of his voice. His brown eyes just as large as his son's, the only difference being his were lighter, and the sun peeking through the clouds shone into his eyes caused the brown to appear the color of whiskey.

"He was great today," she tells the man, pulling her eyes from his gaze with a shake of her head. "We had to have a small discussion about some flowers, but it's all been cleared up now." Penelope finds herself walking beside the man, quickly checking with Michael to make sure that all the other children had been delivered safely to their parents before she went.

"Flowers?" Luke presses, opening the back door of his truck and lifting Anthony onto the seat, making sure to buckle the boy in. Penelope watches as he tosses the SpiderMan backpack onto the floor before turning to back to her, his face pulled into a look of confusion as he shuts the door. She looks up, watching the boy as he observed the conversation between herself and his father.

"Tony said that you used to give them to his mother every day before her accident, I'm very sorry for your loss," Penelope says, taking a few steps away from him when she realized that all she wanted to do was reach out and lay her hand on his arm.

"Thank you," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "I should get him home." Penelope nods, waving to the child in the backseat with a bright smile.

"Oh, Mr. Alvez -"

"Luke, please," he interrupts her. She nods.

"Luke then, we're having a bake sale on Friday and we need parent volunteers, I'm not sure if you have any plans but it would be nice to have you and Tony there," Penelope tells Luke, reaching up to run her hands down her hair, a well known nervous habit of hers.

"I'll make my famous cookies," Luke replies. "And I'll see you on Friday, Miss Garcia."

"Penelope," she calls out to him as he walks away. "It's Penelope." He waves, before climbing into the car, and Penelope watches as he turns around and bumps his fist against his son's, both of them smiling widely at the other.

Mondays are weird, Penelope thinks to herself as she heads back into the building with a happy smile and a buzzing energy coursing through her veins.


	3. Chapter 2

_The navy blue house standing before her was two stories tall with wide windows and a bright yellow door. Penelope can feel a pair of strong arms wrap around her waist. His lips trail down her cheek slowly, each kiss driving her closer to the front door. She's got a million questions rattling around her brain, each of them silenced as a key is dangled in front of her face. Reaching up with her right hand she grips it, making sure to cradle her stomach as she races forward. She laughs at his shout, his voice concerned as she slides the key into the lock and opens the door. She lets out a loud laugh when he enters the hallway after her. Turning to the man, Penelope smiles and tosses her arms around his neck, pressing her lips to his cheek. "It's gorgeous..."_

* * *

Friday dawned brighter than the rest in Penelope's expert opinion as her eyes fly open. And that wasn't because at precisely five o'clock she would be face to face with the single father of one of her students. The _gorgeous_ single father of one of her students. The dream sticks with her as she showers, something vaguely familiar about the house. It doesn't escape her notice that she takes extra time getting ready this morning. Her hair is curled perfectly, each strand given closer attention than the days before. She takes her time applying her makeup, coating each lash with the thick mascara, reapplying her lipstick three times, and double checking her appearance before deeming herself presentable.

She takes longer than usual choosing her outfit, finally deciding on a simple blue dress with green swirls and pairs it with green heels. Penelope tells herself that it's not because she's seeing Luke this evening, no definitely not, she just wanted to wear this dress. The teacher tells herself that it's simply because the dress had sat too long in the back of her closet. Penelope sips her coffee and spends the rest of her morning staring at the second-hand tick by on the clock, having woken from her dream far earlier than her alarm would have jarred her from slumber. She supposes that she could get to the school at an earlier time and get a head start on the copies she would need for the following week.

When she does get to the school, it is only for her to realize that she is the fifth person in line to make copies for the day. By the time it is her turn at the copier, there is a paper jam, and the damn thing happens to be out of toner. Penelope yawns, leaning herself against the printer and scanning the object to see if there was any way to easily clear the jam. She glances at the clock, wondering when Mrs. Cunningham would be in, surely she was well acquainted with the plucky copier and it's delicate sensibilities. Darting her foot out, Penelope kicks lightly at the copier, her frustration at the object coming out in the most childish of ways.

"What did the Xerox ever do to you, PG?" Gasping, Penelope turns to look at her boss, an apology on the tip of her tongue. She didn't mean to manhandle company property, per se, but she really wanted to be able to distract herself with the mindless chatter of the paper exiting the machine.

"Paper jam and the toner is out," she replies, glaring at the copier over her shoulder again. "I'm hoping Mrs. Cunningham can fix it when she gets in." Emily chuckles before walking over to the printer and opening the side hatch, her thin fingers pull the paper from between the spindles. Penelope rolls her eyes and huffs out an exasperated breath. "Yeah, well I loosened it up for you."

"Sure thing, PG," Emily replies. "Are you all set for the bake sale tonight?" Penelope watches as her boss walks over to the cabinet located behind Mrs. Cunningham's desk and pulls a new box of toner from the depths. She uses her office key to slice open the box and makes quick work of changing out the toner cartridge, bagging the other one to avoid ink spills. The blonde woman stares at her boss, wondering why it all looked so easy for someone else to come in and fix the temperamental machine.

"Uh, yeah Mr. Alvez will be helping," Penelope responds, smoothing down the front of her dress with a small smile. Emily lifts the top of the copier and pulls the piece of paper from between Penelope's fingers, placing it face down on the glass surface. Penelope types in the desired amount and presses start while flashing a grateful smile at her best friend. "The LaMontagne's will be there as well."

"Good to hear that you have it all under control, drop off is in five minutes." Penelope looks up at the clock, rolling her eyes and quickly grabs the papers from the exit tray, cursing under her breath. She takes off from the office, her hand slapping against the glass of the door as her heels click on the tile of the hallway. Penelope rushes into her classroom, tossing the mess of papers onto the desk and pulls her lesson plan from the bag. How is it that she could have started the day early only to be trailing so far behind?

* * *

 _He smells so good._ The thought struck Penelope as she traded two quarters for a brownie in the decorated gymnasium. The table they were assigned to man was large enough for two-grade school children to sit at comfortably, but for two full sized adults it was a tad small. Penelope felt as if she was purposefully touching the man with each movement that she made. Her skin on fire with each brush of her shoulder against his.

"So, Garcia, is that your husband's last name?" Luke asks, glancing down at her and smiling as he handed out a cookie to a red-headed girl in a yellow dress. Penelope looks up at him and shakes her head.

"No," she replies. "I'm not married. I've never found the right guy." Penelope ducks her head, turning herself away from the man whose close proximity was setting her very soul alight. "What about your wife?"

"I'd rather not talk about her," Luke mutters as he turns his body towards Penelope. "It's not a happy time in my life and there are some things that I am trying to forget." Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear Penelope nods, whispering out an apology to the man.

"I don't think I ever asked what you do for work," Penelope tries to change the subject. She slides another brownie into a paper sleeve and exchanges it with a student on the other side of the table.

"I work for the FBI," Luke answers, flashing her a brilliant smile that causes the woman to go weak in the knees. She takes a deep breath, turning her attention away from the man and back towards the table. "I have since I finished my final deployment."

"Thank you," Penelope says as she glances over her shoulder. "For your service." Luke shrugs, reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously. "I mean that's what I'm supposed to say right? I never know exactly what to say to people who have probably seen so many horrors in their life. And is a thank you really enough to justify what you must have gone through? A simple thank you doesn't seem like enough for leaving your home and putting your life on the line...oh, I'm sorry." She stops talking abruptly.

"It's fine," he tells her softly. "What made you want to teach?" Penelope grabs the empty tray of brownies from the table and removes the plastic wrapping, tossing it into the trash and stowing the tray on the table behind them. Bending at the knees she grabs the second tray from under the table and deposits it on the table in front of her.

"I wanted something fulfilling," she answers honestly. "I was going to school for IT and I felt like I was the same as everyone else around me. Then one day I substituted and fell in love with the dynamic of teaching, and I really couldn't see myself doing much of anything else. I transferred from CalTech to Virginia State and the rest is quite boring. This was the school I was assigned to for my student teaching and I fell in love with the campus, and Emily, I mean Principal Prentiss, became a fast friend." She handed out another array of brownies, before turning back to Luke. "How do you know her by the way?"

"She uh," he lets out a soft chuckle. "She knew my wife, before the accident." Penelope reaches out to lay her hand on his forearm, sighing softly.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, looking into his brown eyes. She notices the way the lights reflect off of his iris. Penelope gets lost for a moment as she stares at him, and she finds that she could spend an eternity staring into his warm eyes. Shaking her head she finishes her sentence, "I know losing her must have been difficult." He nods, handing out the last cookie from his tray.

"For both Tony and myself, she's been gone about two years." Penelope grabs his empty tray from the table and turns quickly with it in her hands. She stumbles, waiting patiently for the floor to meet her face and is pleasantly pleased when a pair of arms wrap around her waist to steady her. An electric current rolls through her body and she finds her breath coming in shorter gasps. Blinking up at the man, Penelope smiles and lets out an embarrassed laugh, red creeping into her cheeks.

"I'm such a klutz," she tells the man as he rights her on the green heels she donned that morning. "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached."

"I've seen worse," Luke laughs. "My uh, my wife was also wobbly on her feet on a daily basis." Penelope places the tray of new cookies in front of him before smiling up at the man softly. "So, I've been thinking the past couple of days since our conversation on Monday afternoon, and while my son shouldn't have been placing flowers on your desk he was correct in telling you that I find you stunning." Penelope pauses in exchanging change with a student from the first grade and blinks rapidly. She's sure that she misheard him, sure that he hadn't just called her stunning.

"The flowers are long in the past," she tells the man.

"Yes, there won't be any more flowers placed on your desk," Luke promises her. "But I would like to ask you to dinner tomorrow night if you would be so inclined?" Penelope turns to the man, ignoring the child holding out a dollar bill to her, with her mouth open. _Was he serious?_ She shakes her head at the man before quickly turning back to the child and handing them two brownies with a large smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispers. "What did you just say?"

"I'd like to take you to dinner tomorrow night. You in a pretty dress, me wearing a tie and sans credentials and service weapon, a fancy restaurant and possibly some wine?" He laughs, handing out a few more cookies before turning back to Penelope. From his posture, she can clearly tell that he is anxiously awaiting her answer. She shakes her head again, holding up her hands with a sad smile.

"I can't date you, Luke, you're the parent of one of my students," she tells him. "Not that I'm not interested that is because looking at you any female would be interested and I can't believe I'm turning you down. And I can never seem to shut up around you can I?" Luke laughs, holding his hands up in front of him.

"So we're both interested then, that's good to know." His hushed voice reaches her ears and the chill that rolls down her spine is welcome as yet another blush creeps into her cheeks.


	4. Chapter 3

_Penelope takes a sip of the cup she had slid off of the counter and grimaces as the bitter coffee assaults her tongue. She pulls the cup away from her lips and glares at it before peeling the cover off and looking at the insides. She halts her steps and turns back to the coffee shop, yanking the door open and stepping back inside the too warm shop. Her voice sounds foreign to her, younger than she remembers it, as she informs the barista that this isn't the chai tea she ordered. A deep voice behind her causes Penelope to turn and exchange her cup with the one the man is holding out. Smiling up at him, she stills when his fingers brush hers. "Thank you," she tells the man, ducking her head and letting her hair fall in front of her face._

* * *

Monday morning rolls around faster than she would care to admit, her alarm clock pulling her from yet another dream. Groaning, Penelope pulls the blankets over her head and burrows deeper into her bed, silently begging the universe for a sick day. Praying that school was miraculously canceled and she could lounge around her apartment in her fuzzy pajamas and pretend that she wasn't an adult. Peeling the blankets back from her face she tosses her hands down beside her and huffs the air out of her lungs, her bangs flying off of her forehead in the process. She showers and dresses quickly, wanting to get this day over with as quickly as possible. She lets her mind travel back to the bake sale, to the feel of his arms around her waist as he kept her from falling to the way his lips moved when he asked her out on a date.

Not for the first time this weekend Penelope chastises herself for sticking to her principles and turning the man down. Instead of spending her Saturday night out to dinner with a handsome man, who smelt divine if she could be honest, Penelope spent the evening curled up on her couch clutching a glass of wine to her chest. She ate cold pizza from the night before and watched reruns of a mindless television show in order to numb her mind from the idea of what she could be doing. It doesn't evade her that he mind kept slipping to where he would have taken her, what they would have eaten, and her eyes kept sliding to her class register where his number was housed.

She walks through the day in a tired fog. She can't understand, for the life of her, how she is so tired as she went to bed quite early the night before. Penelope finds herself yawning loudly during story time. Her eyes keep darting to the clock, counting down the minutes until the end of the day. When the bell tolls signaling the end of the day, Penelope has never been happier to lead the children outside and deliver them to their parents. Much like the previous Monday, Penelope is left alone at the end of the dismissal, watching a black truck turn into the school parking lot. Her face spreads into an involuntary smile and she bites the inside of her cheek in order to control the grin. She watches the man climb out of his vehicle. Noticing, for the first time the service weapon he kept clipped to his right wrist. His long sleeve shirt is tight on his body, and she notices the ripples of his stomach muscles through the shirt.

"Miss. Garcia," Luke says in greeting, his right hand held behind his back. "How are you today?"

"I'm good," Penelope replies, her mouth going dry at the smile he flashes in her direction. Her eyes going wide as he produces his right hand from behind him, a red rose held out to her. Gingerly, she accepts the rose, keeping her eyes trained on the petals and tries to prevent her cheeks from turning the same color.

"I don't have a case, are you free for dinner tonight?" Penelope lets out a laugh, shaking her head at the man.

"I thought you said that the flowers were done? And, I'd love to," she tells him. "But I can't." He nods, sliding his hands onto Tony's shoulders and giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Okay, Miss. Garcia, maybe you'll change your mind tomorrow," he tells her, flashing another brilliant smile and leading his son away. He looks back over his shoulder, "I said no more flowers will show up at your desk, this is a loophole." Penelope watches the both of them leave, pulling the flower to her nose and letting her eyes close as the scent consumers her.

"Penelope," she shouts after him, not entirely sure as to why him calling her by the surname bothered her so much.

* * *

 _The marker in her hand is thicker than she remembers it being as she scribbles out her number onto his palm. The man had chased her down the street, shouting out for her to stop, all of which she couldn't hear as she had put her headphone back into her ears. Penelope hummed along to the soft music, a distinct distraction to the normal hum of the morning commute. She startled when his hand wrapped softly around her shoulder, emitting a loud squeak, as she spun around to look at him. She welcomes the delighted feeling that washes over her when he softly asks if he can call her sometime. Usually, she would decline the offer, but the nagging voice in the back of her head is telling her that it's okay, just this once._

* * *

On Tuesday the rain pelting her bedroom window drags her from slumber. She blinks the heavy haze from her mind and stares longingly out of her window. She can feel that the air temperature is degrees lower than it was the day before. Penelope lets out a large yawn, scrunching her eyes closed until the bodily function passes. She extends her legs, letting her toes stretch to the parts of her bed that went untouched throughout the night, the cool sheets a welcome change to her body heat. _Isn't it time for a vacation?_ The question rattles around in her brain as she makes her way to the school for the day.

As the day drags by she finds herself getting more anxious, antsier as the clock ticks down until dismissal. Penelope tries to tell herself that it's not because of Tony's father, no it had everything to do with the eggplant bake she was preparing when she got home. She tells herself that it's because two different packages were arriving at her house today. She tells herself that it's because of the bath bombs she had purchased over the weekend and the new scented candle that she was going to light. No, it had absolutely nothing to do with Agent Luke Alvez and his perfectly sculpted muscles, or his megawatt smile, or his warm brown eyes.

For the first time, during all over her years with the school, Penelope's class was the first ones at the door in order for dismissal. Smoothing her dress, which she took her time picking out that morning, and pulling on the ends of her hair she lets her eyes scan the waiting area for his vehicle. She deflates when she doesn't see him right away but remembers that he always shows up at the tail end of dismissal. _Get it together, Garcia._ She tells herself sharply as she squares her shoulders. Small talk was never her forte as she greets the parents of her students, assuring them with platitudes that their children are all angels and a pleasure to have in class. When in fact, little Bobby does nothing but scream in her ear all day long. Susie tries to eat paste instead of her lunch. And Cindy and Joe are often found trying to cut each other's hair with scissors they stole from Michael's desk.

Penelope lets out a breath she didn't know that she was holding when she sees his truck pull into the half-circle drive. She watches as he exits the vehicle, taking in the same sculpted lines that she noticed the day before. The pale red shirt he was wearing hangs as loosely as it possibly can from his broad shoulders. The dark pair of jeans that adorn his legs is tighter than should be legally allowed and are tucked into a pair of high combat boots. Once again she notices the service weapon attached to his hip and a badge clipped to the v-neck of his shirt. Unknowingly, Penelope lets out a dreamy sigh, turning it into a cough when she realizes.

"Penelope," he says in greeting, presenting her with another red rose. She blushes, her fingers brushing against his as she accepts the flower. "How was everything today?" His hands grip Tony, pulling the boy to his side for a hug.

"Everything went well today, Mr. Alvez, Tony is a bright child." Luke nods, ruffling his son's hair.

"Takes after his mother, or so I'm told." Penelope smiles, her eyes dropping down to the child. "It's tomorrow. And it's Luke."

"It's today," Tony says, and Luke laughs.

"Right, it's today, and I was wondering if you, Miss. Garcia, were free for dinner?" Penelope fingers the delicate petal of the rose, a yes on the tip of her tongue, but shakes her head once again.

"I'm flattered really," she begins. "But your son is still my student and you are still my student's father."

* * *

 _The dinging of her phone immediately after she walks away from the man causes a smile to spread across her face. Her right thumb types out a reply to his question, asking him what time he would like to meet for dinner and where. His response is instant and when she turns the corner he is watching her walk away, his mouth pulled taut into a wide smile. Penelope waves over her shoulder at him, telling the man that she would be at the restaurant tonight at eight in the evening. She continues down the street, each step carrying her closer to her job, with a blossoming smile on her face and a giddy beat in her heart._

* * *

Wednesday blooms with chirping birds and harsh winds as the months turn from October to November. The temperature had seemed to drop over twenty degrees overnight and Penelope finds that the safest place for her to be is huddled in her steamy bathroom after her long shower. But she dresses quickly in the freezing temperatures of her bedroom, making sure to slide an extra thick pair of yellow tights up her legs. The black dress she adds to the mix had three-quarter sleeves made of satin, the skirt of the dress a beautiful polka dotted tulle. It doesn't escape her that she looks like a bumble bee, and she decides to make the assumption easier on everyone as she adds a yellow flower to her hair, a bee perched in the center.

She spends the morning in line for the copier again, internally yelling at herself for not making her copies the night before. Instead, she spent the afternoon ogling the man who so casually gave her a red rose each day. When it is her turn at the copier the thing stalls, gives a shuttering noise, and powers down before her very eyes. Gasping she quickly presses the Power button several times in quick succession, praying that the machine was just sleeping, and not actually broken.

"Bea, the printer is being temperamental again," Penelope announces, her eyes wide and panicked. She watches as the older woman lifts her eyes from her paperwork and nods, letting a heavy sigh permeate the air around them.

"That thing is older than I am," Bea replies. "We should both have retired years ago. You got a package by the way." Her shaky hands push a long box over to Penelope and she exchanges the single paper in her hand for the white box tied delicately with a red ribbon. "How many copies do you need, I'll make them in Principal Prentiss' office."

"30," Penelope mutters never taking her eyes off of the box in front of her. She finds herself strangely acquainted with the packaging as she slowly reaches out and pulls at the delicate bow. It falls apart softly, the strings sliding to each side of the box. Her heart is hammering inside of her chest, playing out a beat that she finds so familiar as of late. Penelope's fingers flip the top open, the office going silent around her. She peels back a layer of tissue, finding two red roses tied together delicately with another red ribbon. Laying gently underneath the ribbon is a card. She picks it up delicately, turning it over in her hands and letting a large smile break out onto her face in the process.

 _I'm away on a case and should be back by Friday. For one night, can we pretend to not be a teacher and a parent? Let's just pretend that we are two mature adults who find each other mutually attractive. If you're interested, meet me at 9 o'clock Friday night at Le Soule, and we can see wherever the night takes us. And on Monday, if you want, we can go back to being a teacher and a parent?_

His writing was rushed as if he didn't have much time to pen the note before he had to be somewhere, and she supposed that he did. The thought of being just a person for an evening, out to dinner with a very attractive man, without pen marks on her hands or the scent of paste on her clothes. She had to admit that the offer was very tempting.

Bea hands her the copies, interrupting her inner monologue with a soft smile.

"It's been a while," she mutters, looking down at the flowers with a sad smile. "Thought he'd given up."

"What has?" Penelope tilts her head to the side, obviously interested in the information she had to offer.

"Oh, nothing," Bea tells the woman, reaching out with her soft but wrinkled hand to pat Penelope's arm gently. "Best get to class, the kids should be arriving soon."


	5. Chapter 4

_His fingers trail along the plane of her back as they lay in the bed of a pickup truck. He takes his time touching her, committing every curve of her body to memory. Her long blonde hair is casually tossed over her shoulder and out of his way as she rests her head on her crossed forearms. There is a lazy smile on her face, a content look in her eyes, and a fire burning so deeply within her that she's not sure it could ever be put out. His fingertips drag slowly across her skin in the warm summer breeze as he whispers to her delicate sentiments of a life he planned to build. Penelope finds that she's lost in the sound of his voice as it floats through her ears causing a sudden rush of warmth in the pit of her stomach. The timbre of his voice turning a lever in her body and letting free the inner desires she had tried to tamp down all of her life. She'd never been much of an exhibitionist but lets him take her to undiscovered heights, unexplored valleys, uninhibited places in the deepest recesses of her mind. Penelope lets herself fall in love as he covers his body with hers, giving away a part of herself she had always kept guarded._

* * *

Penelope snaps her eyes open underneath the stream of water, the daydream slipping away from her as easily as the water slides off of her skin. She watches the water swirl down the drain, her mind wandering back to the feel of that man's hands on her skin and the fire he had left behind. She smiles to herself while rinsing the shampoo from her hair, a low hum sounding from her throat as she continued her shower. A familiar squeak reaches her ears as she twists the dial, the water slowing down until disappearing before she steps onto the plush blue carpet that covers the area in front of her shower. She tells herself that the electricity coursing through her veins is entirely from the daydream and not from the fact that she was actually going to meet Luke at Le Soule in a few hours.

She had gone directly from the school to the local mall, mindlessly browsing the racks for a dress that was demure enough to maintain a sense of professionalism, but also provocative enough to let the man know that she was most definitely interested in his advances. Penelope had finally found a burgundy lace dress at the last store she went into. The neckline brushed her collarbone and the hem came to just above her knees and fit her snugly around her hips. The long sleeves did not have a lining, which showcased her skin underneath. But the part of the dress that caught her attention was the deep v it dipped down to. The fabric disappearing and leaving the expanse of her body exposed to him. Penelope thinks to herself that maybe that is where the daydream had come from. She shudders at the thought of his warm hand resting on the small of her bare back and gives a giddy giggle in the silence of her bedroom.

The night air is cooler than she remembers as she slips a short tan trench coat onto her shoulders and wonders again if she can make it through the night with the four-inch nude heels she slid onto her feet. She double checks the time on her watch, not wanting to show up to the restaurant too early. A small part of her wanted to see exactly how long he would wait for her to arrive, but the nicer part of her wanted to be there at the same time as him. Sliding behind the wheel of her car she takes her time driving to the restaurant, pulling the car into the line for the valet service before gripping her purse and getting out of the seat. Penelope takes a deep breath, pulling her curled hair over her left shoulder and grasps the ticket that the young man provided her in exchange for her keys.

The restaurant is dimly lit, with each table housing a candle in the center when she walks in. Penelope hands her coat over, barely acknowledging the person who asked for it and hands her another ticket. Her eyes are trained further into the room, to the man who was currently checking his watch. His hands reach up to fiddle with the black tie, and she continues to watch him fiddle with his shirt sleeve, tugging at them to make sure that they were straight. The candlelight flickers onto his face, warming his eyes and casting them into a deeper shadow. She finds herself wondering what his lips would actually feel like on her face…

Penelope is pulled from her trance when the hostess speaks to her, the harsh accent yanking the woman from the bed of his truck and back into the restaurant. She doesn't have to whisper the name of the person she was coming to meet because when she turns back to the table he's staring directly at her, his mouth hanging open and looking completely shocked to see her. He stands quickly from the table, takes a visible inhale of air and exhales sharply before walking over to the blonde woman. Penelope smiles softly up at him, feeling her hair brush against the bare skin of her back and shudders at the sensation.

"You came?" She nods, flickering her eyes down to her shoes and back up to his face.

"It's just for one night," Penelope whispers to the man, letting him lead her to the table. She can hear the sharp intake of breath from the both of them as he settles his hand just over the small of her exposed back. The heat from his fingertips radiating into her skin causes goosebumps to rise onto her body.

"Unless after tonight you want it to be more," Luke replies, pulling out her chair for her and helping to push it back in. "You look beautiful. I really like your hair styled like that." Penelope blushes, ducking her head and uses the distraction to open her menu and peruse the content.

"Thank you." She looks up at him, flashing a brilliant smile and places the menu on the table and reaches for her water glass. Her heart rate settles when they order their food. The conversation flows easier than it had the night of the bake sale, and before she realizes it she's laughing loudly while eating her salad and bringing her cup of wine to her lips repeatedly.

* * *

Penelope knows, in all good conscience, that she should not be driving and tells Luke as much. His smile radiates through her and clenches at her stomach as he pulls his phone from the inside of his jacket and dials out a number. His voice is smooth to her ears, the lights swimming deliciously around her as she slides her jacket over her shoulders.

"How far away do you live?" His question was brief, whispered delicately into her ear as his hand slid between her coat and her body. She can feel him press his fingertips into the small of her back and Penelope blinks wildly up at the man.

"Few blocks north." Her chin is tilted towards his face, the tipsy smile she was sporting widening as they wait for his truck to be pulled around.

"I have one of my co-workers coming to pick up your car, he'll follow us to your house." Penelope nods, grateful to the man for thinking one step ahead of her.

"I could have left it here but thank you." Her fingers reach out to button her jacket against the subtle breeze. When finished she lets her hand fall to her side, silently hoping that he will reach out to grab it as they continue waiting.

"I'm going to drive you home and make sure you get there safely," Luke tells her, resting the back of his hand against hers. The feeling of his skin against hers causes another jolt of electricity to run through her, and before she can stop herself, Penelope lets out a soft moan. Her mind dragging her back to the feel of his hands on her body in her daydream.

The short ride back to her apartment is filled with soft words spoken between the pair of them, hushed whispers of the song playing softly through the radio, and a final desperate attempt at intimacy as she slides her hand against his forearm. She had watched it resting against the center console for most of the ride, seeing the muscles flexing underneath the thin blue shirt he was wearing. She looks around the cab of the truck, seeing toys scattered about the back, and a faded edge of a photograph underneath his visor. Penelope tells herself that it must be of his wife, and she finds that she is suddenly very curious to know what the woman looked like.

 _Do I compare?_

The thought doesn't strike her as odd. It was one that she had been asking herself for most of her life, always feeling inferior to those around her. But tonight, with the feeling of the lace against her skin, the sensory feeling of his hands on her skin, and the memory of his face when he first laid his eyes on her...Penelope feels superior to any woman in the world. This was a foreign feeling to her. She noticed the way his eyes had never left her face throughout dinner, even though their waitress was beautiful and young, and rather busty. His hands had always remained courteous when he helped her into her seat or helped her slide her jacket back onto her body, or when he helped her slide into his truck. She felt calm in his presence, almost as if this was something that she was doing from memory, as they joked throughout dessert. It didn't feel weird for her as he ordered her favorite slice of cake and proceeded to feed her the first bite, from the back right-hand side. It was the place her mother had told her always had the most frosting. It was never disproven. Penelope didn't stop to ask him how he had known that particular habit of hers, but she didn't think much of it at the time.

His hands grip her waist as she slides out of the seat, and Luke helps steady her on her heels. She is suddenly grateful for them as it gave her an excuse to have him touching her. She feels, for once, like a young woman and not a teacher who just turned thirty-four years old, celebrating a birthday on her own with a cupcake and a glass of Moscato. Penelope reaches down and laces her fingers in his, nodding her head in the direction of her building, and lets him half lead, half follow her home. She finds herself slowing her steps the closer they get to her apartment door, her heart thudding against her chest as her stomach clenches deliciously underneath her dress.

"This is me," she announces, pulling a key from her purse and sliding it into the brushed nickel handle. Luke nods, licking his lips and gulping. Penelope turns, placing her back against the door and smiles up at the man. Her fingers reach up to tuck a piece of hair behind her left ear. "I had a great time at dinner tonight."

"We should do it again sometime," Luke responds after clearing his throat. Penelope pauses for a moment, letting her left-hand drop back down to clutch her purse in front of her. Her thoughts are traveling quickly through her brain, trying to figure out the best way to go about asking him to stay, to come in, to help her fulfill the daydream she had earlier. She opens her mouth, searching for the functions to formulate the words to tell the man that she wants him to stay.

Instead, she nods. Her fingers reaching out to grip the end of his tie lightly, letting her thumb slide against the smooth material. She gives it a soft yank, tugging his body closer to her as she pushes off of the door. Penelope reaches behind her with her right hand, twisting the doorknob and walking back into the dark apartment, never letting go of the tie. She doesn't miss his eyes darkening as he crosses the threshold into her apartment. But she pays attention to the way his foot kicks her door closed before he rushes forward and presses her body into the wall inside her kitchen. She nods when his eyes search her face, an unasked question on his lips. She answers him again, silently by leaning forward and pressing her lips against his.

And though she had thought about doing this so many times, the hypothetical was nothing compared to the dizzy haze she felt as his mouth moved against hers. She couldn't pinpoint it exactly, but it honestly felt a lot like coming home.


	6. Chapter 5

_Shaking hands reach out to loosen the tie around his neck. Her eyes darken as they watch the silky material fall apart against his chest. She keeps her eyes trained on his collar, her chest is heaving from the air deprivation experienced after having his lips pressed against hers. Her nimble fingers, which are so used to gripping a piece of chalk or turning the pages of a book, reach out to unbutton the fastening at his neck. She slides her fingers from button to button, slowly revealing more of his chest to her. His eyes are downcast, watching her every movement with bated breath. The woman tries to ignore the trembling of her hands as she reaches the bottom of his shirt. She lets out a sigh as she tugs the hem free from his pants. Sliding her hands up the smooth expanse of his chest, Penelope pushes the shirt off of his shoulders never taking her eyes off of the smooth skin before her. Tentatively, she leans forward and presses her lips to the space between his pectoral muscles. His breath hitches in his throat the second her lips touch him. Luke finds himself wanting to tell her everything about their past but her hands reach out for his belt, and he can't seem to formulate words. The prospect of laying with his wife again too tempting..._

* * *

Penelope awakens with an incessant need to relieve herself. For a moment she doesn't realize that anything is out of the ordinary until she feels the fingers flex against her hip. Her eyes fly open and meet his, and for a moment she panics. Her brain kicks into overdrive, wondering how she could have been so stupid to allow herself to end up here in the first place. She knew that she should have never allowed herself to go out on a date with this man, knew that she couldn't trust herself around him, knew that she would end up here. But she did it anyway. His hand on her face calms her. His words reach her ears and she recognizes the sentence he keeps repeating to her. It's something her mother used to tell her as a kid.

 _I am here and you are safe._

Penelope stares at him with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open as she lets the sentence wash over her. It calms her racing heart, settles her rampant mind, and the bristling fear that was telling her to flee from the apartment and never return disappears. His hand doesn't leave her face, instead, he curls his fingers into her hair and rubs softly at her scalp. Closing her eyes she lets herself be taken to another time, one so similar to this that she was sure it was the same day. She was laying with her head on his chest, his fingers in her hair, his voice whispering to her that everything was going to be okay.

"We know each other," she whispers. She can hear his head move against her pillows, his beard scratching at the soft material of her sheets as he nods. "How?"

"We met six years ago in a coffee shop," he tells her, never taking his hands off of her face. Luke's voice is gravelly as it reaches her ears. He sounds exhausted, she realizes, and just a bit relieved to be having this conversation. "You had gotten my coffee by mistake. I chased you out of the shop to ask for your number, texting you immediately to ask you to dinner, and you agreed." The dream she had earlier in the week comes back to her now. Penelope finds herself wondering what else about her life wasn't fabricated as her mind slept, were all of her dreams actually her life?

"I don't remember you..." Penelope admits softly as she sits up on the bed, reaching out for a shirt to cover herself with. Her hands are trembling as her mind races, trying to recall any information on the man she had just spent the night with. The total stranger who was telling her that they actually had a past together. The entire situation was laughable, except she couldn't find the hilarity in the situation. Her thighs are sore from the night before. They had been pressed open for hours as he slid into her. It was a delicious coincidence at how well he knew what she liked and how her body had reacted to his hands roaming her body. She didn't think anything of it at the time, choosing to focus on him rocking into her body and taking her to places she had never dreamed of.

"I know," he sighs, also sitting up in the bed. Penelope stands from the mattress in order to distance herself from the man. She watches as his hands run through his hair, the muscles in his back rippling. In the bright sunlight, she can see the half crescent shape indentations that her nails had left on his skin last night. The harsh red welts that crawl down his back a sharp reminder to the orgasms he drew from her body the night before. Penelope definitely remembers the way her legs quivered around his waist as he rolled his hips in a rhythm that, at the time, she thought should have been illegal. "You had an accident a few years ago. You suffer from retrograde amnesia. We tried to bring you home at first but Emily thought it would be best if you went back to your old life, to try and regain your memories that way."

Penelope shakes her head in disbelief. She brings her fingers to her lips, letting them cover the orifice. They're swollen she realizes as she pressed her fingertips deeper into her mouth. She can remember the bruising way he had kissed her. Like a man who was starved and had just been given a plate of food. Like a man who was so thirsty and she was a cool glass of water. Like a man in love with a woman who couldn't remember him. Her heart breaks for him. His eyes are staring at the floor as he speaks to her, the blankets not covering the swell of his bottom. She remembers digging her nails into the flesh of his rear as he slid into her for the first time, wanting to feel every glorious inch of him inside of her.

"Our house is blue?" The question slips from her tongue before she can stop it. "With a yellow door, and really tall windows? Does it have two stories?" For the first time since she left the bed, Luke turns to look at her, hope shining through the tears in his eyes. It didn't strike her until now that he was scared of losing her more than he already had. He nods and she lets out another sigh before sinking into the round chair in the corner of her room. Her bare legs slide against the cool material. "They weren't dreams..."

"You've been remembering?" Penelope shakes her head before nodding, giving off a shrug of her shoulder.

"I've been dreaming ever since I met you and Tony..." she gasps, letting a sob rip from her throat as she gags. _Tony. Anthony Michael Alvez. 5 pounds 12 ounces and 19 inches long. Born on the fifth of April in their living room because she ignored the signs until he got home._ The information floods back to her so quickly she's sure that her neck snapped out of place. "He's...all this time?" Luke nods again before stuttering out apologizes.

"The doctors said that telling you could make it worse, and he was just two at the time of your accident so he doesn't really remember you. Just what he sees in the pictures around the house." Penelope stands on two shaky legs before walking to her closet and finding a pair of pants to slide on. She turns back to the man lying naked in her bed, her eyes are wide with sorrow when she finally speaks to him again.

"Get out." He tries to argue with her, his mouth opening in order to tell her that he had waited long enough for her to remember. There's a blank look on her face, her mind shattering around her. Everything she had ever known was a lie. Everything she had built over the last few years was a lie. His chasing after her _was a lie._ Penelope had never felt more betrayed in her life as she began to collect his clothing, tossing it at his naked form as he stood in the middle of her bedroom. She repeats, "Get out."

Penelope gives him time to get dressed, and while her heart breaks for the man who had lost his wife and the mother of his child... _her child,_ she thinks to herself. She listens to his soft sobs in the other room, her heart clenching with each shaky breath he draws in. There were several other ways that this could go, but Penelope needed answers, and she needed them from someone who hadn't made love to her the previous night. Someone who hadn't tricked her into falling into bed with them so that their bodies could reunite as if they had never been separated in the first place. The ache between her legs is so familiar that it causes her to let out a soft sob of her own. Penelope turns her back to him when he enters the living room and squares her shoulders under his lingering gaze.

"I'm sorry," he whispers to her. "I love you, Penny." Her eyes slide shut as the nickname reaches her. The steady lock she had on her knees gives way and she buckles to the floor. The last thing she remembers is her head hitting the side of her kitchen counter and his black shoes as he races to save her before everything goes black.

* * *

A steady beeping forces her to pull her eyes open. Penelope groans as she blinks rapidly, sliding her eyes shut and coughing to clear her throat. She flexes her hands, patting herself to make sure that she is in one piece.

"Garcia, thank God," her eyes snap back open to connect with his. Penelope notices the weapon holstered at his waist and the relieved look on his face when she connects her eyes with his.

"Wh..." He rushes over to give her a sip of water, helping her sit up on the bed. She tries again, "where am I?"

"You're in the hospital," he replies, reaching over her to press the red call button. She blinks again, resting her head back against the pillows and turning her head to look at him.

"Why?" She questions, shaking her head and trying to remember what led her here. "Was I shot again?" She remembers that the last time she was in a hospital it had been because of the bullet that tore through her body. Luke shakes his head.

"No, I came into work yesterday morning and you had fainted near your car," he informs her while pulling out his phone and quickly typing a message. "Prentiss wanted me to inform her the minute you were awake, the team is in Colorado for a case and they're all worried about you."

"I'm not a teacher?" Penelope asks, and Luke looks over at her with a concerned glance.

"Teacher?" Penelope nods, lifting her right hand up to rub at the sore spot on the back of her head.

"No, we work together at the BAU. Are you feeling okay?" His voice is soft as he pulls the chair closer to her. She watches the conflicted emotions slide across his face as he looks down at her hand. Penelope turns her wrist, facing her palm upward and wiggles her fingers in an invitation.

"I just had the weirdest dream..." Penelope begins, turning her head to smile at the man. "I was a kindergarten teacher and had amnesia."

"I can see you being a teacher, you love kids." He laughs while rubbing his thumb over the back of her hand.

"That's not the weirdest part," she begins. "We were married and we had a kid. His name was Tony and he was extremely cute." Luke locks eyes with her and for a moment Penelope isn't sure if he wants to kiss her or vomit. He blinks slowly, letting his eyes fall to their entwined hands. She ponders her next move carefully. "Have you ever eaten at Le Soule?" Luke shakes his head.

"Never had the time, or anybody to go with for that matter. It's not really a single guy place," he informs her, opening his phone and responding to the message as a nurse walks through the door.

"We should go," Penelope suggests. "If you want to, I mean." She watches as a smile spreads across his face and his hand tightens around hers. She lets a slow blush creep into her cheeks as she remembers the part of her dream where they had laid together so ferociously.

"It's a date," he tells her with a wide grin. "Now get some rest."


End file.
